Context
by unfold
Summary: More Pam&Jim post finale. 'Best friends. Whatever it means.'


**A/N: More random post finale fic. I wanted to thank everyone who read and reviewed Movement. It's gotten more reviews than any other oneshot I've ever written on here. You guys are a much better audience than the Gilmore Girls audience I used to write for. The feedback from you guys is always exceptional and I really appreciate that. ****Thank you so much.**

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Best friends. She says it like it's supposed to mean something to me. She says it like that will change my feelings. She yells it at me, "We're best friends, Jim!" And I don't know what she expects me to do with that. My brain takes it in and all I see the same thing I've always seen. Us. Without a label, without anything. Just us together.

Best friends. She keeps saying it like it's supposed to mean that I can't love her. But all it really means is that I love her even more. Because she's not just a girl. She's my best friend, my closest friend, everything. I'm trying to tell her this, but my words aren't coming out right and she's getting angrier.

Best friends. Like I'm not supposed to kiss her against my desk after office hours. Like because we're best friends I shouldn't want to touch her so badly. Like that's supposed to stop me from wanting to kiss her again even as she's yelling and screaming and crying.

Best friends. She says it like a confession. As if it's something earth shattering. Maybe it is to her. Maybe she's never said it out loud to herself. Never let herself admit that we're that close. But when you see someone forty hours a week- She starts to say it over and over to herself mostly. "Bestfriendsbestfriendsbestfriends." Like I'm not supposed to hold her right now as she starts to sob.

Best friends. I'm saying it like justification. Trying to explain to her that she's- You're supposed to be best friends with your- That's how it works. I'm saying, "That's why this happened. Because you're my best friend." As if it should be obvious. She's shaking, shaking and I hate it. I hate that my best friend is shaking because of something I've said, did. I hate that my best friend hurts right now, but she won't let me fix it.

Best friends. We're best friends, yeah. And I'm moving away and she's marrying someone who isn't good enough and I'm kissing her when I shouldn't be and she's crying in the parking lot and I'm just leaning against the trunk of my car (not because this isn't serious, but because I can't stand up anymore) and she's yelling at me until her voice is hoarse and I'm so thankful that we're alone and she's falling apart and I can't touch her.

Best friends. I say it like it means love. And it does and I'm trying to make her see that. It's selfish though, because I just want to feel okay for once. I just want to feel not alone or somehow more complete. I want to feel like a person again. She could pretend for a second and maybe that would be okay. She could just lie and say, "I love, love, love you." Three times like that because I need to hear it more than once. More than twice. And it might not mean anything, but I'd be okay for a little while.

Best friends. And that's why we're here now. Three years and I finally said it. Three years and I finally know what her body feels like. Three years and I finally made her cry. I hate myself. I hate what I've done and I just want to apologize. I can't take it back. It's too real to take back, to cover up or brush off. But I can apologize and I do. Over and over.

Best friends. I can't, can't, can't. And I kiss her again even though she's sobbing into my mouth and all I can taste is salt. I kiss her firmly, holding her head in my hands. She's relenting and I feel her collapse against me. We're best friends, best friends.

Best friends. She's trembling a little in the passenger seat of my parked car. Trembling and whispering, "I- I- I-" But there's no verb and I get irritated, "What? You what?" She doesn't look at me. She's looking down at her lap, at the floor. She's hunched over- No, doubled over. Finally she says, "I love you."

Best friends. And she says, "I love you," again to make it sound more like a fact and less like a question. Also because I ask her to. She's trying not to break again, trying to hold herself together. It isn't working because you don't just say you love someone when you're really with someone else and have been for ten years. You don't just say you love someone when you've only ever been with one person and you aren't even sure if that was love anymore. You don't just say you love someone when you're wedding is in a month and he's probably waiting at home for you right now.

Best friends. So I'm getting out of the car and going over to her side. Because I want to hold her. So I'm squatting awkwardly on the pavement and putting my arms around her shoulders. She's leaning against me and crying with her hands covering her face and I'm trying to convince her that it'll be alright. I'm trying to convince myself of it. The balls of my feet hurt and so do my calf muscles, but I don't let her go. I can't let her go.

Best friends. I'm driving her home, but she turns ghost white when I pull into her driveway. I back the car out and continue down the road.

Best friends. And she's sleeping in my bed while I'm on the floor. Awake.

Best friends. I'm crawling into bed next to her and she's sleeping, but then her eyes open like she's been awake for hours. Then it's just my teeth and her skin for a while and wordless contact beneath the sheets my mom bought me when I moved out. Her tongue against my skin makes me blind for a second because she's supposed to be pure and she's not at all, not right now. Not when she's pushing her hips into mine and making those throaty noises. Yeah, we're best friends, **best** friends.

Best friends. She's in my shower in the morning and I listen outside the door for a minute just to hear the way the water plops onto the floor as she washes her long hair.

Best friends. And I'm watching her eat eggs at my kitchen counter.

Best friends. We're driving into work together and neither one of us thought of Roy last night, but suddenly he's all either one of us can think about. Maybe I'm scared, but she's terrified and I think about just driving forever and taking her somewhere else. I can't though. We can't. I park the car and let her walk in first, alone. I watch the clock in the car until it's been five minutes and then I go up. I don't ask her how she's going to explain it to Roy, but when he comes up at five she smiles at him and they seem okay. I throw up in the men's room before grabbing my coat off the coat rack and leaving.

Best friends. But we don't talk now. Not for the past few days. We don't have lunch together and we don't take breaks together. The word "together" isn't even a word to me anymore. I get more work done than I have in the last five years in those few days. I sell more paper than you could imagine, but it doesn't mean a thing. And I honestly hate that it doesn't mean anything just because she isn't even looking at me.

Best friends. Because she calls me at three in the morning on a Wednesday- no, Thursday. She calls me and I hear the echo of a bathroom as she whispers. She says that she's sorry. That she wants things to go back to the way they were. I stop her there. That's not what I want and she knows that. I tell her that I can't, I won't.

Best friends. Anyway, I'm still leaving and she's still shaking sometimes.

Best friends. So on my last day, I find her after everyone's left and I kiss her goodbye. She cries a little and she says that she'll miss me and it's not just about distance, is it? She touches my face with her eyes glimmering and I feel the cool metal of her engagement ring against my skin.

Best friends. That's why she tears me apart and I take it with a smile. That's why despite everything, I will always, always love her. Even when her last name changes and the next time I see her she's resting her hands on a pregnant belly and glowing. That's why I'm kissing her fervently against her desk right now and she's letting me and this is so fucked up, but I need it right now. As if it's solidifying me. That's why when she smiles apologetically at me afterwards and starts to walk away, I'll let her and I won't try to stop her.

Best friends. I'm 150 miles away. She's married to him now, but when she calls me on the phone, I can't hear her smiling.

Best friends. I let things slide back into place. Slowly. We ease back into a friendship that lacks complications. Sometimes I see her on weekends. I drive back to Scranton, crossing state lines to get to her. I have dinner with her and Roy and I don't really mind that much anymore. Though it hurts to see them laughing in the kitchen together as they're clearing off the table and I'm sitting there alone, looking at the things they hang on their walls. Sometimes we have time alone together. Roy goes out to the bar and we stay in and watch a movie. I try not to sit too close. She tries not to sit too far. Still, sometimes I end up holding her hand. Sometimes she ends up resting her head on my shoulder and my heart almost slips itself in between my ribs as it pushes and pushes. Sometimes she says that she loves me still. When I'm sitting in my car, getting ready to drive away and she's leaning against the door with her forearms to be at eye level with me, squinting with the light of an early summer evening. It means something different now. She says it casually. Like, "Alright, well, have a good trip back. I love you." Just tacks it onto the ends of other statements. But it doesn't mean the same thing to me and so I rarely say it back.

Best friends. Whatever it means. Just us together. Without any context.


End file.
